


Hold my hand

by All_for_the_andreil



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mention of scars, Self-harming, andrew isn’t quite okay but neil helps, angst with happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_for_the_andreil/pseuds/All_for_the_andreil
Summary: Andrew slips back into his old habit of self-harming. When Neil finds out, he does his best to help.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 193





	Hold my hand

Andrew doesn’t mind his scars. He wears his armbands because he doesn’t like when people see them (and because it’s great place to hide knives), but personally, he doesn’t care how his forearms look. He sees the scars as a proof he lived on through all the shit in his past. He tries not to associate them with his time with Cass too much. She is gone and he is better off without her.

He doesn’t think about cutting these days as much as he used to. He is safe now, he has a family, he has reasons to live. He has Neil. He doesn’t need to make himself feel pain just to remember he’s still breathing. He doesn’t need to make himself suffer just to know he can feel something.

He is well aware of all these things, yet he somehow finds himself locked in the bathroom with knife in hand. It’s middle of the night and everyone is asleep, so he knows they won’t interrupt him.

He sits on the floor, gripping at the knife. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He should call Bee or go out on the roof and have a cigarette, anything. He doesn’t even know _why_ he has the urge to cut. Nothing feels wrong, really. But he’s been itchy all day and he knows this would help. He can’t explain it, not in words.

He gazes at the knife. Back then he didn’t always have knife at hand. He used anything he could find. A shaving razor, broken piece of glass, the blade from pencil sharpener… It didn’t matter then and it doesn’t matter now. The knife is the closest and its weight is reassuring. It almost calms him down.

He peels off his armbands and sets them aside. He places the blade against the already too scarred skin. His hand isn’t shaking, he’s perfectly calm. He takes a breath and slits his wrist open.

By now he knows how deep he can cut without doing any real damage. He knows when he’ll need stitching, so he’s careful to avoid that depth. It’s just deep enough to draw blood, just deep enough to leave another nasty scar.

He only makes few cuts, before setting the knife aside. He stands up, ignoring the blood running down his arm, walks to the basin and turns on the water as cold as possible. He washed his forearm and since it’s still bleeding and he doesn’t want to make a mess, he retreats the aid kit from under the basin and covers all the cuts with bandaids. He puts his armbands back on, cleans up the knife and the few drops of blood from the floor and walks back to the bedroom.

Neil is awake when he climbs into the bed, his eyes wide, reflecting the poor moonlight from outside. Andrew doesn’t feel like talking about it, or about anything, actually, so he lies down and closes his eyes without a word. Neil takes the hint and doesn’t ask.

It takes him ages to drift off.

In the morning, he takes off the bandaids, without bothering to even look at the cuts. The skin around is irritated and it hurts to touch. He doesn’t care. It’s familiar pain. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

He forgets about the cuts throughout the day, although he is reminded by occasional sting, which he always ignores.

But then, he has Neil against the bedroom door, kissing him so hard he can’t feel his lips, pressing Neil’s body against his, Neil’s hands tangled in his hair, sighing his name between the kisses, the last thing Andrew thinks about are his cuts.

“Where can I touch you?” Neil asks breathlessly.

“Above the waist.”

Neil moves one of his hands onto Andrew’s shoulder while sliding the other down the length of his arm, over the armband.

He doesn’t grip, but it still hurts when he touches the cuts, armbands or not, and Andrew pulls away from Neil instantly.

Neil immediately drops his hands from Andrew and wants to take a step back, but with the door behind him, he stays standing awkwardly, looking at Andrew with startled expression.

Andrew should’ve seen this coming. It was his own stupid fault. He doesn’t believe in regret, but this time it’s a close call. He doesn’t blame Neil, of course, he couldn’t have known. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

But _god_ , Neil looks so worried, so scared he stepped over the line, terrified he hurt Andrew.

Andrew has to take a breath, ignoring the stinging pain. “It wasn’t a no.”

Neil frowns in confusion. “What happened then?” He asks slowly.

Andrew should think of something to say, but he’s sure that whatever he’d say would be lie. And he doesn’t lie. Especially to Neil.

So instead of answering, he takes off his armband and shows Neil his arm.

Neil seems bemused at first, but when he realizes what he’s looking at, he goes pale. “Andrew…”

Andrew risks a glance at him. Neil’s face is tightened with worry. “When?” He asks in low voice.

“Last night.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Andrew admits.

Neil nods, more to himself, but it still soothes Andrew a bit. Neil doesn’t seem angry with him at least.

“Did you disinfect it?”

“No.” Disinfection was the last thing on Andrew’s mind then.

“Will you let me do it?”

Andrew isn’t very fond of disinfections, it reminds him of hospitals and he _hates_ hospitals. But Neil looks so frightened, he nods.

Neil leads him to the bathroom and gets the aid kit. Andrew settles himself on the floor once more and watches Neil as he fumbles through the kit for the disinfection and cotton pads.

Then he sits to Andrew, giving him a cautious look. “Yes or no, Drew?”

“Yes.”

Neil is extremely careful. He cleans up the cuts and when they start bleeding again – they always do when you disinfect them – he puts over some fresh bandaids.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Neil asks him when he finishes.

“Not now.”

“Okay.” Neil doesn’t push him. He never does. “Ice cream?” He suggests with small smile.

Andrew hates how well Neil knows him. “Yes.” And he follows Neil out of the bathroom to the kitchen.

Neil gets them the ice cream and they sit on the kitchen counter, eating it in silence, until Andrew breaks it with: “Hold my hand; yes or no?”

Neil beams at him and Andrew suppresses the urge to push him off the counter. “It’s always yes with you,” Neil replies with a grin.

Andrew rolls his eyes but slips his hand into Neil’s.

Maybe there are other ways to make himself feel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, stay safe <3


End file.
